


Five Books Tenpou Never Read

by macavitykitsune



Category: Saiyuki, Saiyuki Gaiden
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 19:48:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3262217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macavitykitsune/pseuds/macavitykitsune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five books Tenpou never read, and why. A set of Five Things drabbles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Books Tenpou Never Read

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Darlingfox](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Darlingfox).



Five Books Tenpou Never Read  
  
1.  
  
It was his personal belief that Kenren was posssessed of some sort of arcane power of chaos. There was simply no other way to explain the fact that every time he tidied up his study, he produced armfuls of books Tenpou had never seen before, but half the content of his to-read-in-the-next-week pile vanished in a bizarre carousel of academia`. This, despite the fact that Kenren claimed to have some experience in cataloguing after  _years' worth of cleaning up your shit_ , as he'd rather colourfully put it. The Lonely Planet's guide to Togenkyou had vanished entirely in the first mass-cleaning that he'd undertaken, and Kenren had flatly refused to provide a new copy, stating that he hadn't taken it out of the room, and if Tenpou was too damn lazy to get off his ass and find it he wasn't going to pay. He had also been skeptical at best of Tenpou's explanation that if his library was, for all practical purposes, a closed recyling system, and that if he waited and messed it up at periodic intervals, Kenren's cleaning would eventually make it turn up in the to-read pile - it was statistically impossible that it wouldn't, given that they had a nearly infinite number of years and cleanings to go through, and besides he'd  _remember_  if he saw it anywhere, and  _would_  you please stop laughing, Taisho?

  
Definitely an agent of chaos. It would explain far too much about him.   
  
  
2.  
  
He never did divulge why he had so much Anpanman lying around in his library, and whether it was only for Goku that he'd bought it. Konzen knew better than to ask. There were things no kami should know.  
  
  
  
3.  
  
He had a slender volume of translated Persian poems (a copy of a copy, spiral-bound, passed along from one of his sources Down Below) open about halfway through when Kenren staggered through the door, barely able to stand on his own. His smile was as cocky and self-assured as ever, although the cut at the corner of his mouth must have made it hard to keep it stretched so. 

Tenpou didn't reach out for him, although part of him ached to. The rest of him was entirely too uncertain whether he could restrain himself from taking a swing at him.

Goku's presence proved an excellent distraction as well as a leash on his temper, and all in all, he was quite proud of the way he'd managed to restrain himself from any unseemly displays of irritation in front of the child. It hadn't lasted, of course, but at least Li Touten deserved it. 

Two days later, considerably more bruised in both body and pride, with Kenren finally on the road to recovery and his conscience (or was it his paranoia?) beginning to nudge him to find out what, if anything, Goku had said about the whole affair to Konzen, he realised that he hadn't finished the book - had, in fact, not done more than stare blankly at its pages as the seconds had ticked away and he'd waited for Goujun to retrieve Kenren as the dragon had promised. He ventured over to his desk, and saw the book lying on its top, weighted down by the frog ashtray. Its spine had been ripped out. Tenpou blinked, memory flooding back into him ( _twisting hands, rising wrath_ ), and a wry chuckle escaped him. It was stacked neatly, and in order, as far as he could see. Kenren's work, no doubt.

"To Hell with it," he murmured and swept the whole stack into the nearly-full dustbin that lurked under his desk.   
  
  
4.  
  
Unsurprisingly, the early morning found him the only one who was still awake. Konzen had nodded off a while ago under the influence of liquor and the gentle night breeze, arms still folded protectively across his chest, that eternal frown line on his forehead only a little shallower. Goku was curled up against him, stroking the ends of his golden hair in his sleep. He'd only grabbed once that Tenpou had noticed, and a faint snuffling noise of protest from Konzen had been enough to quiet him. Kenren was sprawled out on the ground like a large cat, his coat protecting him against the chill of the earth, grinning faintly in his sleep. 

Tenpou sighed, tilting his head back to watch the trees, letting himself be soothed by their hushed rustling. The moon peeked over the tops of the trees, a glorious full moon, almost bright enough to read by if he squinted (and he was good at squinting). He pulled Death On The Nile out of the pocket of his labcoat, where he'd shoved it out of sheer habit early that evening - well, the previous night - and settled down to read. 

He woke with a start a few hours later, the book falling from his hands to the ground. Kenren was awake as well, but he hadn't moved much. He gave Tenpou a cheerful grin and a lazy wave, still stretched out on the ground. Tenpou smiled back at him, tucking the book back in his labcoat, and leaned over to give him a slow kiss. 

There was always time to read later.  
  
  
5.   
  
 _Arise and bid me strike a match_  
And strike another till time catch;  
Should the conflagration climb,  
Run till all the sages know.  
We the great gazebo built,  
They convicted us of guilt;  
Bid me strike a match and blow.   
  
His life is here. A world of learning, possibilities and dreams and hopes and truths buried in scripts gathered from across the world, centuries' worth of patient collecting, of preservation and attention of love. So many thousands of books, all those nights and days of quiet exploration, of needing to understand; and once he's gone they'll step in here, with their pristine clothes and filthy souls, soil his refuge of decades with their pettiness and their prejudice. 

He knows he's abandoning this world. Knows with painful clarity the shape of things to come, his own chances of surviving those events, the bitterness of his defeat, and the rage at his own inability to guess how deep the rot had set bites deep into his soul. His fault. Kenren's honour, Konzen's naivete, Goku's innocence - their goodness is their shield and their downfall. He has no such excuse; no justifying virtue. He was supposed to be the one who protected them, and he has failed. Everything that has happened is his fault, and this is only the beginning of the price he will pay.

His hands shake as he set the timer, as he steps silently out of his rooms for the last time. Nicotine deprivation, for the most part.

The price will be paid, yes, he thinks as he shuts the door behind all the books he's loved, and those he'll never read. 

But he _will_ not be the only one to pay it.


End file.
